Page 15 of Sour Brew Face

“The conference room is free. You could picnic in there.”

“Don’t you two have a cliff you could jump off or a bottle of bleach you could share?”

“Well, I never.” Esteban says in a thick southern accent, his hand clasping his shirt above his heart. “Come, Ishaan, I know when I’m not wanted.”

“You sure about that?” I ask his retreating back as he pushes Ishaan towards their workspace. Ish gives me a thumb’s up over his shoulder and a cheesy grin.

Langston clears his throat in the silence that follows and reaches out a hand to grab mine.

“So, I thought surprising you at work was a good idea and I wanted to do this yesterday but my mom—anyway, you don’t have to have lunch with me if you don’t want—” I cut him off with my lips after I drop my lunch bag to the counter and leap into his unsuspecting arms.

It’s clumsy at first, until he drops what’s in his hands and settles them under my ass, hoisting me up into his arms and kissing me with renewed vigor. Fuck food, I want to eat him.

“Mo.” He whispers into my mouth, then stronger he says, “Wait, Mary Opal, stop.” He tears his mouth away from mine and brings one palm up to my forehead to stop me from attacking him again. His eyes are dark, and his face flushed, but his expression is open and happy. A sexy smirk on his kiss swollen lips.

“Lunch.” He shakes his head. “I mean, I brought lunch. I’d like to have lunch with you.” I’m not ashamed to say…I pout. Like full on bottom lip jutting out, doe eyes and there might even be a whimper. He leans in so he’s speaking directly into my ear and whispers, “And if you’re a good girl, I’ll eat your wet slit for dessert.”

Behaving like the adult I am, I unwind my legs from around his waist, and he reluctantly lowers me to the ground. I run my hands down my clothing to straighten it out and spin on my heel to lead him to the conference room.

“Just so you know, I prefer to have my dessert first.” I glance over my shoulder to make sure he’s following me and nearly faceplant when I register the dark promises his eyes pledge. My nipples harden in my bra and my panties are definitely not dry, my skin tingles in anticipation. And my stomach growls…I am actually hungry.

As soon as we’re in the conference room, Langston drops the bag over his shoulder and the other one in his hand and pushes me against the closed door. His mouth is on mine, his tongue demanding entrance, his hands everywhere at once. My jaw, my breasts, the button, and zipper of my pants. I gulp in a deep breath when he moves his mouth to my neck. And I squeak when he lifts me from my waist and deposits me on the conference table. It’s cold against my ass, but I don’t have time to think much on that. Langston pushes my knees to my chest, my legs trapped by the fabric of my pants, and dives face first into my vagina.

“Oh, sweet mother of peanut butter!” I exclaim, dropping my head to the table with a thunk. The vibrations of his laughter only amp up my arousal and I’m hurtling to the finish line much faster than I want. I reach down and pat around blindly until I find his head. Gripping his hair, I tug a little to stop him.

“Not so fast, Lang, pussy is meant to be enjoyed and savored. You aren’t trying to set a world record.” His eyes blink at me from around my bound legs, his chin and nose coated in my juices. He looks fucking hot and hungry.

“Who said you were only coming once?” My mouth forms an “o” of shock and I give myself over to him and settle in for the ride. And what a ride it is. There isn’t a millimeter of my pussy that he isn’t well acquainted with by the time he wrings three orgasms out of me.

“You know, I hate to say it.” I’m breathing heavy like a ran a mile instead of laying on a table immobile realizing this is what oral sex is supposed to feel like. “You may not have set a world record, but you certainly set a personal best for me. Three, that’s one, two, three,” I hold up each finger as I count, “orgasms in less than 30 minutes with only your tongue and fingers.”

Langston stands up, pulling my legs flat and stepping to my side. His pants are open, and his impressive erection is playing peek-a-boo as his hand moves up and down the shaft, swirling at the head. I go to move my hand to help him, but he uses his left hand to stop me.

“Don’t move. Just like that. All flushed and sated and your pussy soaking fucking wet because of me.” His voice is little more than a growl and if I wasn’t absolutely starving now, I’d beg him for more. “Fuck, I can’t wait to get inside that tight snatch, have it choke my cock, feel you cum like only I can make you cum.” I’m moaning at his words, squeezing my legs together and practically writhing on the table. He moves his hand to my belly and holds me down as his cock turns an angry purple. The skin of his neck mottled with arousal and his teeth gritted, the muscles of his forearms flex and shift. I have never seen anything so erotic in my life. That is until he cums, volley after volley of his thick white essence landing on my belly, my mound, and dripping down his hand.

I muster enough energy to grab his hand and bring it to my mouth to lick his release. I grin around his digits and revel in the grunt he emits and his full body shudder. He climbs on top of me, covering me with his muscled body. Staring into my eyes, daring me to look away, to deny what’s between us, he cups my face with a tenderness I’ve never known.

“I like picnics.” I snort in his face and then crack up at his look of shock.

“Sorry!” I say, though I sound anything but sorry. “I just wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

His hand tightens fractionally on my jaw, his thumb stroking my cheek. “I wasn’t expecting you. Never been so happy to be blindsided.” I lean up and kiss him, our mouths meeting in a gentle embrace that warms my heart.

Our stomachs voice their protests, and it gets us moving. He helps me off the table and we redress all the while sharing goofy smiles and lingering looks. Langston spreads a blanket on the table and lays all the food out. We’ve just sat down to eat when the door to the conference room opens, and my seven dorks come waltzing in. They ignore my glare and start perusing the food options.

“What are you guys doing?” I ask, not concealing my irritation that they’re interrupting my lunch date.

“We’re hungry, we wanted to see what leftovers you had. But it looks like you’ve barely eaten anything.” Seth says.

“We haven’t eaten yet lunch yet.” Langston responds casually, shrugging his shoulders when I turn my glare on him for indulging them.

Paul snorts, “You’ve been in here like a half hour.”

I offer a wicked grin, licking my lips exaggeratedly, “We decided to have dessert first.”

Dave snaps his fingers as if he just figured something out, “Is that why his chin is all shiny and it smells like the seafood department at the grocery store?”

No one expects it, so I’m able to lunge across the table and tackle Dave to the ground. I get one good titty-twister in when I hear Langston’s deep voice.

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